


secrets are no fun

by gayneilperry



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, everyone except neil todd and charlie come in in the second chapter lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayneilperry/pseuds/gayneilperry
Summary: "i wasn't going to tell you, i wasn't going to say a word / but you looked right up at me / with your eyes blinking so pitifully"(title is from the song by the bad bad hats)





	secrets are no fun

In all the many, many times I’ve been drunk I have never gotten plastered like I’ve gotten tonight. Never puking-drunk but now I’m puking-drunk. In front of Charlie’s house, on the lawn. I narrowly missed his mother’s flower garden but not by much. I’m sure it isn’t exactly a good addition to the only humble thing about this house but Charlie’s not yelling at me for it. I think he knows that he can spin this so his mom doesn’t get pissed off about it, maybe say it’s the start of compost or something.

He’s folded over in glee, laughs escaping into the night breeze, not loud enough to drown out the music coming from inside the house, but loud enough for it to pound into my skull and encourage me to spill even more of my guts. Which I do, gladly, even more sour bile reaching up out of my throat and resting itself in the grass. “That’s fucking disgusting. Neil.” Charlie laughs out, giddy with cheap booze and my failing body.

I feel the presence of another person, coming up behind me. I know who it is before he even says anything, quiet concern coming off him in waves.

“Neil?” Todd says, so softly that I can barely hear him. “Are you okay?”

“He’s going to be fine.” Charlie respondes,  drawing out the ‘I’ in fine and caps it off with another uninhibited laugh, delight seeping from every pore of his body.

Todd kneels beside me, arm gently coming down around my shoulders. He passes me a water bottle with the cap off. I take it from him and down some. My body doesn’t like that, not so soon after I’ve spilled what seems to be the entirety of my internal organs everywhere. I immediately gag afterwards. This time I do heave into Charlie’s mom’s flowers but at least it’s just water.

“Neil!” He says, smile still in his voice so I know he’s not angry. “Not the tulips, man. They can get overwatered.”

“Sorry.” I’m able to grunt out, passing the water back to Todd, who grabs it and caps it, setting it down onto the lawn, endearing look of concern still plastered over every line in his face. “Is there anyone in there that can take me home?” I look up at Charlie just as he turns to look at the house, tapping a finger against the plastic cup in his hand.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” He turns back to me. “I mean, I could go in and ask.”

“No, it’s fi-”

“I could drive you.” Todd cuts me off. I turn to him and see his ears are red, he turns his head to stare at his fingers splayed across my back. “I mean-I mean-”

“Yeah! Todd can drive you! I doubt he’s ever thought about laying a finger on a can of beer much less drinking one tonight.” The corners of Charlie’s mouth are pulled up in a plastered smile.

“Yeah. I’m sober. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t, Neil.”

They seem to be talking too fast for me to have even considered that, not like I didn’t trust Todd. Charlie’s right, if Todd would even take the chance that he would do something embarrassing in public while drunk (like, I don’t know, throw up on the lawn of his friend’s house), hell would freeze over. “Alright.” There’s a moment of silence between the three of us. “Can you help me up, Todd?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry.” He says it all like it’s one word, syllables tripping over each other frantically. He throws one of my arms around his shoulders and stands, pulling me up with him.

I stumble a little bit but Todd lets me lean against him, helping me right myself. I feel like Todd holding me like this is a bit much, like I’m wounded or something, but it’s probably a better idea than letting me walk by myself. That pool of vomit is a little too grotesque for me to think even think about taking the chance to fall into it.

Charlie slaps me on the back a little too hard. “Drive safe, boys. And, Neil, I want you to remember this. This is what happens when you get drunk.” His tone is serious, like he’s trying to soberly lecture me, but the smile is still on his face, so the effect doesn’t hold up.

I snort. “Alright, Dad.”

He winces. “Ooh, harsh.” He pats my back again, softer this time. “Drive safe, guys. Seriously.” He points at Todd. “I trust you, Toddrick.”

I can practically hear Todd’s eyes roll back in his head. “Sure thing, Charles.”

And with that Charlie walks back up to the house, downing the rest of whatever’s in that red Solo cup of his. He crushes the cup in his hand and tosses it behind his back onto the ground, stepping up the porch and into the house.

Todd starts walking, helping me keep up with him, tenderly keeping me upright. He helps me over to the driveway where his car is, the only one there. He walks me over to the passenger’s side, me pretending that I’m carrying my weight and him actually carrying it.

“Ah, shit.” He breathes out, rummaging around in his pocket with his free hand. “Can you get my keys?” I stare at him for a second, bleary-eyed, before finally realizing that he’s talking to me. I reach over into his pocket with my free hand, stumbling a little as I do, and pull the keys out of his pocket. He takes them from me, fingers brushing up against mine.

He unlocks the door, opening it, and sets me gently into the seat, like a baby, pulling the seatbelt across my hunched chest. He leans against me to do it and I can smell him from how close he is to my face, that smell is tinged with that sharp sting of alcohol, but it’s not coming from him. I don’t know why I do it but just as he’s finished locking the seat belt in and pulling his body out of the car, I grab onto his arm and force him to lock eyes with me. I stare at him for a moment. Not really at him, more like his eyes. There’s a layer of green over that blue, like a wispy see-through curtain. I never really noticed it before but, then again, there’s really never an appropriate time to stare into someone’s eyes like I was staring into his. I clear my throat, trying to settle down my stomach, afraid if I don’t I’m going to puke in his car and I don’t think I would allow Todd to forgive me for that. He probably would, though. “Thanks for driving me, I really appreciate it.”

He smiles, the corners of his mouth pulling up like Charlie’s, only it’s not like Charlie. Not much. The geniality, the care, is there, but it’s not inebriated. “Hey, no problem, man.” Something in my chest sinks when he calls me “man”, but I think that’s just the realization that he’s driving me  _ home _ . I’m going to have to drag my ass up to the front door and talk to my dad about where I’ve been. I hate it when he yells at me but I don’t think I could physically handle it feeling like I’m feeling.

Todd opens his door and sits in the driver’s seat just as I smack my head against the headrest.

He puts the key in the ignition and turns the car over, backing up out of the driveway and onto the street.

There’s silence for a moment until Todd speaks. “Neil? You okay?” He asks it as softly as he asked that same question earlier. I can see him looking at me so I turn to him but he turns away as I do it, looking at the silent radio, then to the road. “I mean… you look… sad.”

I’m not sad, at least not the kind of sad that you usually get. I guess alcohol makes me sadder than usual. I’m just tired. Just so so tired. I don’t say that, though. I would normally just throw that into the air and that would satisfy anyone but instead I opt for the more detailed answer, one I wouldn’t usually give, but considering how my dad just might start tearing into Todd if Todd decides to be a nice person and help me to my door, he should hear it, I know Charlie has at least a million times.

“You know about my dad, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard you talk about him. I’ve seen him a couple times. If you don’t mind me saying, he looks terrifying.”

I let out a dry laugh, not exactly without humor. He turns to me quickly, smiling, then back at the road. “Feel free. He’s going to beat my ass as soon as I walk through our front door.” I know it sounds tactless and a little too casual as soon as I phrase it like that and I don’t want to say it but I do.

“Oh, shit, Neil.” Todd turns back to me but this time without the smile. I don’t like the soft look in his eyes. I don’t like earning this type of soft look from people, most of all Todd who seems to have made a monopoly on gentle looks, all of them better than this one.

The pity hangs between us, coming off of him in waves and smacking me right in that spot in my chest that sunk into my stomach when he called me “man”. I suddenly don’t care that my dad’s going to be royally pissed off, being told off in my living room would be a thousand times better than feeling this sort of pity from anyone, most of all Todd. And I don’t know why I don’t want it from Todd more than anyone else but I don’t care. I turn away from him so I don’t have to see that gentle look anymore and I stare holes into the road like he was doing earlier.

“My dad’s bad, too.” I turn back to him, only momentarily, just long enough to see that he means it. “Not as bad as yours, I don’t think, but he’s gone now.” I turn back to him again, his quiet voice. I don’t realize my brow is furrowed until he continues, tripping over his words as he does. “Not gone as in dead. G-gone as in out of town. He’s gone now. With my mother.” He pauses for a minute, taking a breath in and then breathing it out, getting his sentence back on track. “What I’m trying to say is - I mean what I’m trying to ask is if you would like to stay with me tonight. Not  _ with me _ . In my house, in my general vicinity.” He makes a motion as he says those last two words, spinning his hand around the caddy between us. “You don’t have to be with me if you don’t want.”

I laugh despite myself, turning to look at Todd’s tentative smile, laughing along with me. He turns his eyes back to the road but I can see something behind them, hidden but not well. If I was sober I think I would be able to place what it was but, for now at least, I can’t tell. I realize I haven’t answered. “Of course, Todd. Thanks.”

He breathes out. I realize he was holding his breath but for what I don’t know. Not like my answer would really matter that much to him besides the feeling he probably got from doing something nice. But he’s so nice, he probably feels that way all the time. I take my phone out of my pocket and let out my own sigh, though mine’s more out of relief as I see that it’s still pretty early in the night. At least in Charlie’s terms. One in the morning on a Saturday was probably nothing to him. I text my mother that I’m going to be staying at Todd’s for the night and although her reply comes too fast for my liking, the smile she sends with her enthusiastic  _ Okay!  _ makes the anxious feeling in my chest calm down.

In no time at all, we reach Todd’s house. At least that’s what it feels like. I’m just now realizing I’ve never been to Todd’s house and it definitely looks like he lives here. Not like I put much thought into thinking about where he lives.

Todd parks in the driveway, the headlights and the engine clicking off. A light comes on in the front seat as Todd opens his door, shutting it behind him. I can see his shadow passing over the front of the car as he comes over to my side.

He opens my door and leans over to unsnap my seatbelt. I don’t know why I didn’t do it myself, it’s not like I couldn’t. I feel like shit but I haven’t lost all mobility in my limbs. But Todd does get close enough so I can smell him again and I don’t think I smell so strongly of beer now because I can actually tell what he smells like. Not in a lot of detail, I couldn’t tell you what to compare it to except there’s the slightest tinge of sour. I don’t think he was doing any dancing at the party to make him smell awful but there definitely is that smell of sweat, like people kept bumping up against him. And if I know Todd at all I know he probably didn’t like that much. Although, maybe he did. Maybe it was a cute girl. I knock that thought out of my head as quickly as it came. He never mentioned seeing a girl…. But he is quiet, so he probably didn’t even think to. I don’t even care, anyway. And on top of that it doesn’t matter. He can do what he wants.

This time he’s able to pull back from me without me grabbing his arm and staring into his eyes like a freak and he helps me out of the car. I’m still stumbling around and my head is pounding but I can walk without Todd helping me. I close my door and Todd locks the car.

We walk side by side up to his porch in silence and he unlocks the door, holding it open for me to walk in. I do, and it’s dark for a minute until Todd turns a light on for the foyer. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust, I blink quickly at the sudden light, wisps of it appearing behind my eyelids as I do. The foyer turns out to be much smaller than I thought, not really a foyer at all. There’s a door off to the side - closet, I think, but it’s too warm and clear outside for Todd to feel the need to use it - and a set of stairs off to the side, pictures hanging off the wall.

We stand there for a minute before Todd clears his throat. I spin around, more exaggerated than I really wanted it to be and he looks almost ashamed for a minute, like he’s bothering me. “Sorry I, uh… do you want to go to my room?” Todd’s hands are shoved into his pockets. I don’t care where we go, I feel like I could fall asleep right here but I don’t say as much. The red from Todd’s ears is quickly taking over his face. It’s so… bright. I feel like I could reach out and touch his face and my fingertips would burn off.

“Jesus, Todd, your face is so red.” I almost laugh but stop myself, settling on letting a smile take over my face, biting my tongue against the laughter bubbling up my throat.

“Really?” He says, a slight crack in his voice, a hand coming out of his pocket to touch his cheek.

“Are you sick?”

“No.” He clears his throat, hand clenching into a fist and returning to his pocket. “No. Uh, I’ll show you my - uh - my room.” He ends quickly and starts up the stairs.

I follow him as quickly as I can, stumbling on the first step. Todd stops me, grabbing onto my right hand as my left comes down to stop myself from falling face-first.

And we stay like that, for the briefest of moments, him holding my hand, and me now leaning my weight against my forearm, looking at each other. His hands are soft. They’re really soft, almost as soft as the look he’s giving me now, this one much more pleasing than the pitying one he gave me in the car.

“Sorry.” He finally says, breaking what seems to be a tense silence. Maybe that’s just me. My head’s swirling, a flurry of colors swimming through my skull, maybe it’s making up this nervous sort of purply feeling in my chest, blooming like a bruise between my ribs. He moves his hand to my forearm and he helps me up.

My eye falls on the picture behind him. Two young boys in front of this house, hair combed back and ties around their necks. Their arms are thrown around each other and they’ve exposed their toothy but genuine smiles. The younger boy on the left, standing on his tip-toes to have his arm around his brother’s shoulders, has considerably less teeth than the one on the right. Todd. Though a much younger Todd. He’s got his eyes, the blue ones where, if you’re looking really close, you’ll see the green.

Todd turns his head to see what I’m looking at. “Jesus, that’s such a bad picture of me.”

I turn my attention from the picture to him, smiling my own toothy grin. “Don’t say that, you’re a baby.”

“Currently?” He snorts out.

I laugh with him for a bit before it peters out. He’s still holding onto my forearm and I don’t want him to remove it, his weight against my own is pleasant, like a blanket, but he’s starting to pull away so I think of the first thing to say. “Uh, is that Jeff?” The hand anchors back onto my arm and squeezes lightly. “Your brother. The other one, I mean. The taller boy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s Jeff.” His voice is tight, strained almost.  _ Change the subject, Neil. _

“So, uh, so where did you say your parents were?”

“I didn’t. They’re visiting my brother. Up at his house. He’s had a baby recently.” His voice is even tighter, this time openly strained.  _ Bad subject, Neil. _

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Here’s the silence again. The pitying one only this time Todd’s on the receiving end of it. I feel like an asshole immediately. Fuck, I just want to sleep. You can’t say stupid shit when you’re asleep. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s a  _ baby _ .” He lets out a strained laugh and I feel myself copying it. His arm leaves mine and he starts up the stairs, this time slower than before, but I still keep slightly behind him.

He doesn’t seem cold, exactly, just quiet. He’s always so fucking quiet. I’d die if I kept to myself as much as he did.

We reach the top of the stairs, stepping into a hallway. Todd reaches his hand out, feeling a wall to his side. He flicks a switch on and the corridor is lit up. He steps back a little so I can step up into the entrance of the hall. “My room’s on the end there.” He says, pointing to the door on the right hand side of the hallway. I take an unsure step forward, then continue when I see that Todd isn’t moving.

There’s more pictures in this hallway, fewer than on the staircase, but these seem to be older. Except for one, flanked by dead-eyed older photos of Todd’s great-grandparents or great-aunts or great-anythings, is a young man. I can tell immediately that it’s Jeff, given the context clues and the way Todd clenches and unclenches his fist when he sees I’m looking at it.

I tear my eyes away from it, keeping them to the floor until we reach the door to Todd’s room. He opens it, stepping in and turning on a light.

There’s posters on the wall, notebooks and novels stacked up on his desk and the table beside his bed. There’s a window and a ledge, even more books on it. There’s a wastebasket, overflowing with crumpled up pieces of paper, some unfolded slightly, like he wants to steal a piece of a line. There’s a pen lying on top of an open notebook that Todd walks swiftly towards to close. He leans against his desk, knuckles pressed to the closed notebook, hand in his pocket, looking at me.

“It’s… nice.” I finally breathe out. And it is, comfortable and warm and unmistakably Todd. Whatever the fuck that means. I amble towards his bedside table, feeling myself starting to teeter. I sit down on the bed, the worst thing I think I could right now is fall down and pass out. I’ll try not to do that. “What are you reading?”

“A lot of things.” He says, coming to sit beside me on the bed, hands dangling between his legs. “There’s this one book-” He reaches over, brushing my arm as he does, to get the book off the top of the pile, hefting it in his hand. “Tome, more like. But it’s this book of Walt Whitman’s poetry.” He shows me the cover, a photo of Whitman, his face hidden beneath a beard and hair that reaches past his ears. “And Howl. By Allen Ginsberg.” He reaches over again, pulling a considerably slimmer volume off the top as well. “It reminds me of Whitman. I don’t know a lot about poetry but I think it’s the way they’re structured or something.” He lays the books in his lap, staring at the both of them. “I honestly haven’t really cracked them open and compared them.”

I take the Whitman from him, hooking my finger underneath a bookmark, pressed in between the pages. I open it slowly, running my eyes along the words. They swim in my head, blurring together completely, until my eyes land on a highlighted part.  _ The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth. To see him pass conveys as much as the next poem, possibly more. _

Huh.

“Do you write poetry, Todd?” I close the book, turning to him. His eyes move from the table to mine. I take special care to not let my gaze wander behind him, towards the desk and the closed notebook. I already know the answer, or at least the truth of it.

“Um.” He stares down at his feet, peeling at a hangnail on his finger. “Not-not really.” He looks up, anywhere but me.

_ Why can’t he just fucking look at me _ . I grab onto his forearm just as he opens his mouth. His gaze finally darts back to mine.

Silence. For a moment. “They’re not very good.” He finally breathes out.

“I’m sure they are.” I say lightly.

“No, no. They’re really not.” He starts to turn away from me again and I feel my heart start to reach up into my throat.

I grab onto his shoulders, pulling him towards me, so close that he can do nothing but look at me. But he’s not fighting it, just taking in my expression which I’m sure looks fucking crazy but I don’t care. I’m too drunk to care. “Todd. They’re good.”

“You haven’t read them.”

He’s right but if I’m sure about anything, I’m sure about this. My voice is childishly adamant as I talk but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything and I’m so goddamn tired. “You speak...good.” Jesus. “You-you-you’re… silent. All the time. And you read and you always have a pencil with you. In your pocket, in your backpack, behind your ear.” He reaches up - to touch his ear, I think, but his hand comes down on one of the arms holding onto his shoulders. One of my arms. “And you always look so lost in thought. All the time.”

He clears his throat but he doesn’t move.

“Todd, you’re so quiet. You’re so so quiet.” I move my hands from his shoulders and hold his face as tenderly as I can, pulling his face somehow even closer to mine. “Can I tell you a secret?”

**Author's Note:**

> this was so bad i'm sorry slkgjsdg i'm illiterate but i've this idea's been stuck in my head for like fifty years so i had to write it.


End file.
